My Hero
by mistymay951
Summary: After Korra is kidnapped and tortured by Amon, she feels broken and worthless, spiraling easily into a state of depression. When she does build up the courage to tell somebody about it, she chooses to share her experience with a concerned Mako. ONE-SHOT.


Authors Note- This was really hard for me to write, and I actually planned to post it before Wednesday, but I never really got around to it. I'm not sure if I like it or not, so as always reviews are greatly appreciated; I really do enjoy the feedback. Oh and if you like these sort of hurt/comfort/angst stories, you should check out my other stories!

**Disclaimer- I own nothing but the plot!**

My Hero

He was stupid, stupid to believe her when she had told him she wasn't afraid of anything, stupid to believe she was indestructible and nothing could hurt her. Amon had hurt her; Amon had torn her apart bit-by-bit, piece-by-piece, until all that remained was the shadow of a once spirited girl; the shadow of Korra.

He passes by her room everyday to check on her and to talk to her when she's ready, but every time he chances a glance into the bedroom, the sight is the same. The girl lay crumpled on the bed, curled in on herself as if protecting her gaunt body from wandering eyes. There are times when she's silent, giving no indication that she's aware of his presence, maybe she's asleep, but Mako doubts that; she hasn't slept much since she has returned. More often than not, though, she would cry, mostly silent tears, but sometimes loud, heart-wrenching sobs. She would clench her jaw tight, trying desperately to hold back the screams that threatened to leak from her trembling lips, her body shaking wildly as tears stream steadily down her face, leaving mazes of salt across her already scarred cheeks. The first time he had seen her like this, it made him want to cry, to take away the pain and claim it as his own. Once, he had dared enter the room, reaching out to her, trying to pull her back into reality with a gentle touch like he would have done before this all happened, back when she was whole, but she had scooted away, out of his reach, whimpering like he was going to hurt her.

She probably thought he would; why wouldn't he, Amon had. Amon had broken her, left her unfixable and dirty and scarred. She lost her bending; she lost her sense of trust; she had lost everything and everybody, and it hurt like hell. She had thought nobody could hurt her; she had thought she was untouchable because she was the Avatar; that was until he had her in his grasp, until he had hurt her and tortured her and made her so insignificant and useless. It seems impossible to think that just a year ago, she was in the North Pole training for her firebending test, and now she's been reduced to this, a pile of bones with water dripping from the eye sockets, barely alive. Her heart was beating, yes, but what is living when you have lost everything to live for? It is nothing. She was nothing.

It's like this for a long time, months pass and seasons change, but Korra stays the same; Korra stays untouchable and fragile, like a vase on the edge of a table, ready to fall at any second, ready to shatter irreparably.

When she does change, it's instantaneous, not like he expected it would be. He walks by her room, like he has done everyday of the past six months, but today, she's not laying on the bed weeping. Today she sits cross-legged on the floor, examining her crippled thumbs in silent thought. He's taken aback, but he doesn't show it; he stands mute at the doorway because if she wants to talk, she will.

Finally, after a long while, her head lifts slowly; her eyes squeezed shut as she breathes out the two words he has been waiting months to hear, "I'm ready." Mako nods, even though she can't see him and enters her room, trying desperately to keep his footsteps light as not to frighten her. He sits slowly on the floor across from her, far enough away for her to feel comfortable but close enough to reach out and touch her; that is if she'll let him.

When she's ready, her eyes open determinedly. Mako can see the acceptance in them, but right below that, lay terror, boiling beneath her irises, barely contained.

"I was walking home after probending practice when he grabbed me," she starts shakily. She can still feel cold hand covering her mouth, silencing her screams as sets of arms snake around her body, blocking her chi, and then she's falling, the concrete striking her skull hard as she's engulfed in suffocating blackness. "I was terrified."

Mako waits patiently as she takes a few deep breathes to calm her rapidly increasing heart rate before continuing, "When I woke up, I was chained in some dark room." She remembers icy metal daggers bound snuggly around her ankles and wrist, inhibiting even the most basic movements, "I was chi-blocked so I had no idea what time it was or how long I had been out." She can still remember how her neck had locked up as she tried hopelessly to maneuver into a more comfortable position. It simply wasn't possible.

"He left me in that room for a longtime," she says almost vehemently, "I'm not sure if it was days or weeks, but the only time I actually saw people was when they would come to chi-block me again, or sometimes, if Amon was in a good mood, give me a sip of water or some stale bread," her voice is rapidly gaining power as anger momentarily overtakes fear, "He was too coward to do it himself, so he sent his guards to deal with me." She shakes her head bitterly. He was a gutless son of a bitch who put her through hell for his own sick amusement.

"I tried fighting them off once, I really did," she says, her momentary courage faltering drastically as memories assault her mind, and fear begins to snake it's way into her voice yet again "I wasn't strong enough Mako." She lifts up the hem of her shirt, carefully maneuvering her mutilated fingers, to reveal crude scarlet scars criss crossing all the way up her stomach and into her white sports bra; the lines coming out of the other side and ending with a long slash on her neck, most likely the result of an angry Lieutenant with a pouch full of sharpened knives.

"I should have died from this; I wanted to die, I was ready to, but they wouldn't let me," she closes her eyes, resentment making her blood boil and her stomach churn, "Every time I thought it was truly over that I'd be allowed to leave this life for good, they'd bring in some crude healer to stitch me up, and they'd start all over again."

"Korra…" Mako sighs sadly as the girl in question opens her eyes to reveal glassy irises. He's seen her scars before, but he's never been allowed so close, close enough to touch. His hands reach out slowly and hover just above the imperfections, afraid she'll recoil if he pushes forward any further. He makes eye contact with her, a silent plea for permission, and slowly she nods her head. Her skin is warm under his cool hands, and she shivers slightly at the contact; this is probably the closest she's been to anybody but the healers since she's come home. The tips of his fingers travel over her torso, just barely grazing the puckered skin; the touch is both reassuring and terrifying to a wounded Korra. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, pulling his eyes from the damaged skin to meet her gaze once again as his hand drops to his side.

She pulls her shirt down again and continues the story as if she hadn't heard him, "He didn't come until I rebelled," she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave, "I should have known he'd show up when I got out of hand. He came in immediately after I had been chi-blocked, and as soon as I saw his mask, and I don't know, I kind of just freaked out," she chuckles bitterly," I guess all that adrenaline unblocked my chi and I started to bend everything and anything I could, but he was too fast, and before I could stop him, he had a hand on my head and neck. I thought for sure I'd go into the avatar state, but…" she trails off quietly, balling her hands into fists on her lap, "Next thing I remember is waking up on the floor, unchained, and feeling completely empty and totally blind."

She shakes her head, taking a second to arrange her thoughts as a stray tear plops onto her lap, "I thought he'd let me go," she whispers, hints of desperation still evident in her voice as she lifts her gaze from the floor to meet his golden eyes, "He didn't really need me anymore, but I guess taking my bending just wasn't enough.

"I was in that cell for a while; they didn't even bother to guard it anymore. I wasn't a threat," she smiles sourly," The next time I saw him, they had restrained me again, tied me to a wooden chair and stuck me in the center of a concrete room. He walked in and started talking about torture and hurt and everything that terrifies me, but I kept my poker face on because even just blinking would have given away how truly scared I was." For a second, Mako is surprised that she is opening up this much, but he figures that these thoughts have been building hopelessly on her shoulders for months, and just saying it aloud must lessen the weight she feels.

"It wasn't until he started mentioning you and Bolin and Tenzin's family did I flinch. My eye twitched and that was enough for him. He told me that if I didn't scream for him, that if I didn't give him the satisfaction of hurting me, he'd find you and torture you," she closes her eyes, giving Mako time to absorb every word she's just said, "I couldn't let that happen, and I don't regret my choice"

"What did he do to you?" Mako asks, his voice deathly quiet and his hands holding his scarf in a vice grip.

She sighs," It wasn't bad the first few days, really; he slapped me around a little, nothing I couldn't handle. The first time he broke a bone, it was an accident, but it hurt so bad I screamed, and that was exactly what he had wanted, so he started breaking my fingers and toes during the day, and then having an inexperienced healer fix them at night so he could do it again the next morning. Sometimes he'd crack a rib for good measure, but that was only when he was really angry." Mako balls his hands until his fists turn white; he's so angry. He's angry at Korra for selling herself away like this, angry at himself for not searching for her longer, but most of all, he's angry at Amon, angry that he's broken Korra apart in an unimaginable way, and now she can never be the same as she was before. Not in this lifetime that is.

She continues on, either unaware of or choosing to ignore his blinding rage, "Then he started bringing the Kali Sticks with him, and it just got worse," she shakes a little, wrapping her arms around her torso protectively, "He would only shock my arms at first, that hurt." Tears have started falling, and there's no stopping them now. "After a while, he got bored and started to shock anywhere he knew would hurt; he especially liked my thighs." She pulls the leg of her sweatpants up to reveal an array of blotched scars, crinkling the surface of the skin and giving it an unhealthy sheen. He cringes, only now noticing the faint patterns of half-healed electricity wounds that outline her body. Everywhere. Mazes of pink, stretching from her flushed cheeks to her now disfigured toes.

"He'd shock me until I begged for death, and then he'd either shock me some more or laugh at how weak I'd become.

"That's not all he did," she whispers, "But I'm not ready to talk about it all. Not yet."

"Why Korra?" he asks after a moment of silence, "Why didn't you just let them take me?" It would have saved her from this, saved Mako from watching her slip farther away with every tear she sheds. It would have been easier.

"Don't you understand?" she yells, finally losing control completely as a dam of emotions cracks, "I screamed for him so you didn't have too. I care about you too much, and I never want that to happen to you or to Ikki or to Pema," her voice cracks pathetically, "I'm the Avatar, and I'm supposed to be able to take care of the world, and sometimes that means sacrificing myself in the process "

She buries her head in her hands in frustration and sadness and anger and ever emotions she knows, and she cries. She cries because she's still hurt because she wishes that along with protecting everybody else, she could have saved herself, but it's never that easy.

He reaches his hand out hesitantly, like he's approaching a wounded animal, and lays it lightly on her shoulder. At first she stiffens, her body freezing instantaneously, probably reliving some horrifyingly vivid memory, but, surprisingly, she relaxes into his hand scooting a little closer and burying her tear stained face in his scarf, muffling her sobs with the soft fabric; she's happy for a trustworthy touch and far too tired to fight him away.

He lets her cry until her sobs fade to nothing, "Thank you, Avatar Korra," he whispers slowly in her ear once the room is yet again silent, making sure she picks up every syllable of the name.

She shakes her head against his chest, "Don't call me that," she hiccups, "I'm not the Avatar anymore."

"Yes, you are," he reassures quietly, stroking her hair affectionately, "The Avatar is a hero, and for the past year, Korra, You've been my hero."


End file.
